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墨書 Inktalez
In the same interrogation room, the person sitting in the interrogation chair had turned into the gray-haired Song Daoquan. "I see from the records that you are 51 years old this year?" Detective Wu Dian sat behind the desk, flipping through the temporary file he had found on Song Daoquan, which was only two thin pages long. The man sitting across from him looked much older than in his photo, with an exhausted expression as if all his energy had been drained. However, his square face still bore sharp features; even though his body had withered somewhat under the ravages of time, his tall stature still exerted considerable pressure when he first entered the interrogation room.
"We all count by lunar age; I'm 52 now."
"Do you know why we brought you here?"
Song Daoquan seemed to struggle even to lift his eyelids. "When I was at home, your colleagues said I rented a storage room to hide a corpse? They spoke so ambiguously that I didn't really understand. I have a storage room at home that has been empty for years; why would I pay to rent someone else's? I have no idea what happened with the corpse; you brought me here without explaining anything. Why don't you say the landlord is the one who did it and is framing my old man?"
"Because the corpse is that of your wife, who has been missing for thirteen years."
"Bang!" Song Daoquan's eyes nearly popped out. "Yuzhen has been found?" Initially filled with joy, he quickly shifted to shock. "A corpse? What do you mean? Yuzhen is dead? When did this happen?" Then came sorrow. "How did she die? Which bastard... in whose storage room was she found?" His expression changed seamlessly.
"In your storage room next door."
"Next door?" The words seemed not to come from him; his mouth felt detached from him as he mechanically repeated Wu Dian's words. It was then that Wu Dian saw what true despair looked like on his face. "She was right next door? I've been looking for her for thirteen years, and she was right next door? Which neighbor? Is it the left or the right? Which household's storage room? Police Comrade, I need to know who killed her!"
Based on height alone, Wu Dian had almost concluded that the giant killer mentioned by Zhang Tiangang was none other than Song Daoquan sitting before him. But now he hesitated because anyone could see that Song Daoquan was aging, resolute, and tough as iron. And now he was crying; those tears must have come from a genuine place.
Wu Dian's thoughts became a tangled mess again. "So you mean you really never rented anyone else's storage room?"
"No! I swear!"
Wu Dian glanced at the laptop screen in front of Wang Yi'an. "Tell me about your wife's disappearance."
"It was my fault. I'm dull and don't understand romance; I couldn't grasp her feelings at all. We fought about this often; she might have grown tired of this life. After all, there are many who understand romance, and she was so beautiful. It's not her fault; it's mine. If I could earn money, it would be different, but I'm just a coward who can't lie or cheat anyone. Even when vegetables cost five cents wholesale and I sell them for six cents, I feel like I'm cheating them out of their money—I'm very self-conscious about it. So someone like me can't make money and isn't much of a person; it's only natural she wouldn't want to be with me." Song Daoquan sniffled. "Police Comrade, please tell me whose family hid Yuzhen away? I wronged her when she was alive; she has suffered so much after death—I can't let her go without justice!"
"Once the case is clear, we will give you an answer."
"Thank you, Police Comrade!" Song Daoquan couldn't stand up and had to bend deeply at the waist, resting his forehead against the horizontal bar to express his gratitude to Wu Dian.
"What is your relationship with Tang Wenshan?"
Song Daoquan froze. "Who?"
"Tang Wenshan."
"I've never heard of him. Who is he? Did he kill Yuzhen?" Song Daoquan's emotions began to build up gradually, rising step by step.
"No, but his name appeared on the freezer where the body was hidden. Think carefully again—are you sure you've never seen him?" Wu Dian picked up a color-printed photo of Tang Wenshan and walked over to show it to Song Daoquan. After examining it for a while, Song Daoquan said, "This is just a young guy; when Yuzhen went missing back then, he was still just a kid."
Behind the one-way mirror, Zhao Ziqiang crossed his arms and rested his chin on one hand. "Du Zao doesn't have an alibi; Song Daoquan has no motive for murder—are we investigating in the wrong direction?"
More than an hour later, Ye Ying returned, rushing into the basement corridor with excitement mixed with anxiety. She saw Ji Qinchou leaning against the opposite wall with his knees hugged to his chest, drawing patterns on the ground with a stick he had picked up from somewhere—like a child unable to enter their home because their parents hadn't come back from work yet, bored and lethargic.
Ji Qinchou heard Ye Ying's footsteps but didn't look up; he stared at the mind map on the ground. "Sister Ying, things here aren't simple!" He pointed directly at storage room 2131 with his stick.
"Indeed, it's not that simple!" Ye Ying gasped as she rushed to Ji Qinchou's side, proudly clutching a TF card. "Guess who I saw in the surveillance footage?"
"Hmm?" Ji Qinchou tilted his head to look at her. The adrenaline from the unexpected information surged through her; the long and winding route from the property management office to here had her jogging all the way. Now, she was flushed, both inside and out, and her lips couldn't help but curl up in a grin, unable to feign disappointment to scare him. "Hehe, you definitely can't guess!"
There was a strict rule for the princesses in PINK Bar: no phones allowed when selecting tables in the private rooms hidden behind the dance floor; otherwise, the day's table fee would be confiscated! Repeated violations meant immediate expulsion!
At that time, Shi Ya and her colleagues had cornered the clients directly in the private room, leaving them speechless. The manager considered herself unlucky; one was soliciting prostitution while the other was providing paid companionship. So—"To be honest, it's illegal but not criminal. If the transaction amount is relatively low, considering your cooperation with the police investigation, I can talk to my colleagues at the precinct on your behalf to reduce your punishment. What do you think? Care to confess?" Shi Ya paced back and forth in front of the monitor displaying a silent music video, scrutinizing these debauched individuals.
"You saw everything; what else do you want us to confess?"
"Her," Shi Ya pointed at the woman being restrained by her colleagues. "How many sessions did she have today?"
"Just this one," the manager replied with a sycophantic smile.
"What was the time frame for selecting tables?"
"From around 10 o'clock until now."
"Did she go out at any point?"
"No, our rule here is that you can't leave the private room during your shift."
"What about going to the bathroom?"
The manager pointed upwards. "Each private room has its own restroom."
"Who was her client?"
A middle-aged man with a protruding belly slowly raised his arm.
"She really didn't go out even once?"
"No, absolutely not. I paid for her; how could I let her run off?"
"And she didn't play with her phone during this time?"
"No, we were playing dice and drinking. Look, all these boxes are our achievements from tonight."
"Achievements," Shi Ya licked her teeth thoughtfully before nodding. She waved her hand, and along with her colleagues, took the woman out of the private room to a secluded spot. Shi Ya asked her, "Where do you all keep your phones while working?"
"We have a dedicated break room with lockers—almost one for each person—but it varies. Sometimes in urgent situations, we just stuff our regular clothes anywhere when we change out of them; phones and cigarettes end up scattered on the coffee table. No one steals them; at most, someone might borrow a cigarette from you, leaving you without any."
"So anyone could potentially access your phone?"
"That's true, but I have a lock screen password that no one in the shop knows."
Shi Ya placed one hand on her waist and tapped her forehead with the other. "Emergency calls don't require unlocking the screen. Is your lounge usually locked?"
"No, it's not, because you never know who might come late or who has finished their shift. There's no need to lock it."
"That's a problem," Shi Ya said as she slowly paced, searching for a breakthrough in her thoughts. "Anyone could have accessed it, and it's not just the staff in the store. We can only extract fingerprints and compare them one by one." She turned to her colleague and said, "Go check the surveillance footage. If there are no issues, capture the video from the corresponding time."
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